Bridge to Somewhere

I feel pretty good. No interviews scheduled yet, damnit, but I feel like I'm in the right place mentally to contend with things at work, for a short while, at least. When there's a change in administrations, there's sure to be a shifting of priorities and that will open up some new federal jobs, so if things don't get cracking right away, I can take a breath, hang on, and just make it.

My boss threw me under the bus, no question about it, and I'm supposed to somehow keep showing up for work each morning with a smile on my face and not fall into a sullen funk. I realize it's a benefit for me to just forgive her and find some equanimity, and I'm working on it. Louise Hay says to send love to those who did you dirt. Just doesn't come easy, thasall. I'm not that good at forgiveness, evidently. I just wanna gnaw on the bone of outrage, growling and slobbering over the injustice for awhile. Yet there's no meat on that bone, no nutritional value, just an empty exercise. I get it.

Instant gratification is a big part of a food addiction, I think, and in these circumstances, where an instant fix (an effective fix, that is - a tray of lasagna just doesn't cut it anymore) is damned near impossible, I get frustrated fast. Fix it! Change it! I'm uncomfortable! Do something! It's the instinct of the powerless, isn't it, to flounce into the boss' office, announce an immediate resignation, utter an epithet or two, hop into a car and drive drive drive to a new life somewhere, anywhere else. But I'm not really powerless. I can shift my point of view to allow this period of pendinghood to be as comfortable as possible, knowing I have taken and will continue to take steps to move on. I don't need to immediately "solve" my situation so much as I need to utilize it as a prod to do things I've been needing to do regardless of how much or how little my boss thinks of me.

My need to be comfortable, to be that ephemeral thing called "safe," keeps me glued into a job I don't like and a city I don't have much sympatico with, for fear that the unknown will be worse. I'm the abused spouse who doesn't leave her husband, the homeless person in a cardboard box who doesn't believe it will be better at the shelter. And I'm the fat person in the shell of protective adipose tissue who's afraid to take the risk of being free. Free to do what? To feel and experience and try and live and love.

I can have a better life than this, and the bridge to a better life is a period of discomfort and uncertainty for a couple of months. It's not so bad. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, right? Besides, any certainty we think we have about our future is just smoke anyway, so the alternative - to accept a nothing special job, a nothing special life, just because it's safe - doesn't make sense anymore. Nothing is safe, except embracing the idea that I can love myself completely and unconditionally. That's the safest place I can be, nestled in pure unconditional self-love. If I have that, if I sustain that, I'm safe, no matter what turmoil surrounds me.